Science Is Not An Exact Science
by WhiteLadyDragon
Summary: Kabuto is always cleaning up after his master's messes. This time, he is forced to speak on Orochimaru's behalf after his body modification experiment hits a snag.


_**DISCLAIMER!**_ All featured or mentioned fictional entities are from Masashi Kishimoto's manga series _Naruto_. This fan fiction is written purely for entertainment and generates no profit whatsoever.

 **Written for the Oro-Appreciation Gift Exchange on Discord. Happy Holidays and Happy New Year!**

 _ **SCIENCE IS NOT AN EXACT SCIENCE**_

Don't get me wrong. Lord Danzo Shimura was, and is, a gross old man. You couldn't stand near him without having to hold your breath lest his knock you out cold. You'd be forgiven for suspecting he had never once taken a brush to his teeth in his whole miserable life, his physical rot in sync with his mental, emotional, and moral decay. How fortunate that he was never one for long or frequent conversation. We weren't required to speak in his presence except to give short reports and respond to his questions with "Yes, sir" and "No, sir."

But that was all roses compared to what I currently endure from Lord Orochimaru.

"Oh, Kabuto…"

I push my glasses back up on my face before turning away from the bench. My back stiffens. "Yes?"

His raspy drawl weaves out of the shadows like the snakes he surrounds himself with. It's coming from behind the cracked door at the far end of the room. He sounds worse than usual, his voice raking along my spine like coils of sharp scales. What is he _doing_ in here?

"Come here, please. I need your help."

My grip on the flask and vial tighten. I must will myself to relax so as to put them down, and to prevent breaking the glass and cutting myself. I have no choice but to oblige him. I take a deep breath—away from him so he doesn't see my unease—before creeping over to the door. I tread slowly and carefully. This way, my chances of being ambushed by whatever is beyond that door are diminished. Perhaps not completely eliminated, but diminished.

That's the best anyone can do when it comes to Lord Orochimaru.

I stop. Shadows rise across the floor from benches and equipment as if to get away from the white lights sparsely placed around the lab.

"Come closer…"

I take a few more steps.

"Closer…"

A few more steps.

"Closer, still…"

He's so temperamental. In his better moods, he's fond of games. Whether you want to play along or not.

I finally come to a stop about a meter from the door, lest I get struck in the face in case it flies open. "What is it, Lord Orochimaru?" I ask, keeping my own voice as even as I can. I allow myself to blink only once every thirty seconds as I fix my eyes on the crack in the door.

"As you know, I'm in the process of perfecting the Transference Ritual. But it seems I've hit a snag…"

Heat blasts through my body. My heart races. Oh no. _That_ jutsu? Does he need more bodies to practice on, already? He's not about to ask me to—?

No. I'm the one who procures the bodies for him. There's no way he'd use _me_ as a guinea pig. Who else would he have to keep things running? Still, a spurt of adrenaline raises my nerves and every hair on my skin.

The door silently cracks open by a few centimeters. In the darkness within the crack, one golden reptilian eye shimmers close to the ground. It's…bigger than usual.

What in the world—?

"Could you please open the door for me? I can't reach it."

I do as he asks. Inhaling through my nose, I grab the handle, my hand trembling all the while, and pull.

Once the lights pour in, I am greeted with a menacing hiss that rattles the lamps and my bones. My heart jumps into my throat, blunting the scream that escapes me.

The next thing I know, I'm on the ground with a kunai clutched in my hand, rapidly scooting away to put more distance between myself and…whatever this _thing_ is that's taken my master's place. This giant white snake who looks like him and yet doesn't, glaring at me with huge golden eyes behind a mane of spiky black hair, pointed jaws agape to reveal rows upon rows of sharp fangs. In an instant, the curtain of silence that had draped over the room before tears open to the hiss of a hundred furious snakes…all of which make up the main body of the giant snake. Their yellow eyes glimmer in the semi-darkness like rows of scalpels, all aimed at me.

Suddenly, the giant snake bursts into laughter not unlike Lord Orochimaru's.

"Got you!"

Lord Orochimaru has always had a perverted sense of humor.

I lower my kunai slightly but keep it gripped in front of me. "L-Lord Orochimaru…what the…?"

His tongue, now thin and forked, licks the air as he speaks, stretching all his S's. "I'm modifying my body to ease the transition from host to host. Unfortunately, it seems the process has stopped at my head," he explains, his scaled face frozen in a hungry grin. He could swallow me whole like a grape if he only wanted…no doubt that's how he plans to seize control of his new bodies.

I'm forced to regain my footing as he inches out of his room like a worm, the snakes making up his elongated neck contracting out of sync as if they are just learning how to move, as if he is still figuring out how to move them from the way he grunts to himself. A shift to the left and sure enough I can see his body half-blanketed in the shadows at the end of him, unchanged and limp, flopping uselessly behind him as a stretch of neck connects it with the layers of snakes.

Also, he had apparently decided to disrobe before starting the transformation. How fortunate that I can only make out his torso and arms from this angle. Still, out of respect, and to shield my eyes from more unnecessary trauma, I scoot towards the right, using his massive head to block the rest of his body from view.

Honestly, the sight of Lord Orochimaru wiggling around like this would be kind of funny if it wasn't so horrifying. I bite my lip accordingly.

"Don't worry. I'll be able to reverse this and try again. Or perhaps see this through to completion? In the meantime, however, I will need you to be my hands and feet…and my face. I'm meeting with the Daimyo tomorrow to negotiate funding."

I blink. "T— _tomorrow?_ Are you going to be able to change back in time?"

"Unlikely. A transformation this intensive, even when incomplete, is quite taxing. It could take days. You'll have to speak for me. Be sure to pull out your best clothes."

Oh no! He's forcing me to speak in front of a crowd? I can barely tolerate people staring at me. My stomach ties itself into a knot as I imagine hundreds of eyes boring into me at once, peeling at me strip by strip—oh, right. That's already happening.

The only difference is that these eyes currently belong to snakes. And yet, people's eyes are worse, somehow. At least snakes swallow you whole. Humans rip and chew you up, first.

For that reason, I keep my kunai raised still. "My lord, with all due respect, couldn't you have waited until after your appointment to start your experiments?"

If he could move his shoulders, he would probably shrug them. Instead, he tilts his head and rolls his hundreds of eyes to the side as if this is the first time he has so much as considered it. "Perhaps…I _may_ have slightly overestimated how well this would go the first time. Science is not an exact science," he comments wryly.

Then he lifts his snout up towards the ceiling, his tongue again flickering between his fangs. "But that's what makes it so exciting. Anyway, there's no point in lamenting what's already happened. Now come here and help me get dressed. My clothes are folded behind me. After that, I'll need you to carry my body to my quarters."

If I wasn't pale before, I feel the rest of the color drain out of me until I'm nearly as white as he is. If I ever scrub the images of his bare body from behind my eyelids, it will either be a stroke of luck or a testament to my determination. Or maybe something even more nightmarish will soon come along and blot it out?

He scoffs and all the snakes attached to him hiss in unanimous irritation. "Oh, come now, Kabuto. How many stripped corpses have you seen? There's no room for modesty, here."

"Why did you have to strip naked, to begin with?" I grumble.

"I'm changing my body, not my clothes. I'm disappointed. Normally I don't like to write off questions as silly, but that, my dear, is without a doubt a silly question."

As I sidestep around the coils of snakes that try to nip at my ankles, before I resign myself to the task at hand and train my eyes to look everywhere but the offensive spot between his lifeless legs, for a moment I wish with all my heart that I was with Mother instead of here.

…

The incident sets precedent in our partnership. He makes messes—a good fraction of them, in my humble opinion, avoidable—and I clean them up. For someone hailed as a genius in his time, his enormous and frequent lapses in common sense are alarming. Has he always been this way? Or has his lust for power squeezed out what sense he once had from his head?

No wonder Lord Danzo and Lord Third cut him loose.

And no wonder he was looking for a right hand to help him build Otogakure. I just happened to have the misfortune of being the poor bastard he lassoed for the job.

Should I be flattered? It would make this so much more bearable if I was. At the very least, I'm safe—well, as safe as anyone can be with Lord Orochimaru.

Now, in no way am I implying that he isn't legitimately brilliant. He is. He can be. It's just that out of everyone in our burgeoning village, I'm the only one close enough to notice when he isn't acting like it. It's thanks to me that he can keep up his godly façade for as long as he wishes.

The Sound Daimyo? _That_ is a man who is undoubtedly, unrelentingly stupid. He sits across from me, a fat dark rat in bejeweled robes, sniffing the air either for cheese or danger. Not long ago, his clothes and palace were unspeakably plain for a daimyo. His tastes seem to have grown more extravagant since he and Lord Orochimaru first met. Or more likely, he's just decorating his abode as he's always wanted, now that he has the means to do so.

Extravagance, however, doesn't equal good taste. He's lined his quarters with the most garish gold rats I've seen in my life. Rats, of all things!

How on earth did this country get by with him at the helm for so long? Oh, that's right. He'd started a reckless war in hopes of expanding his territory and plunged it and most of its clans into ruin. For Lord Orochimaru, it had been easy pickings.

On second thought, the motif is quite appropriate as he twirls the end of his short mustache as a rat combs its whiskers. He thinks he's awfully clever to sell out his country to a snake for power, not realizing that one day he, too, will be swallowed whole. I try not to let the symbolism of it all, or the grotesque silhouette sitting beside me, distract me. The guards stand silently on either side. Though they don't stare directly at me, I can feel their eyes hovering over my head like a guillotine that could fall on me at any moment.

I wonder if they can see his shadow, too. I could swear I see the spear quiver in the fist of one of them.

The Daimyo raises a sausage-thick eyebrow. "Why is your master hiding behind a curtain?" he asks, his lips pulling back just enough to give me a peek of his large front teeth. The more I look at him, the more he really does look like a rat. He just needs more hair and a tail. He even squeaks like one. "He never did that before."

I clear my throat, averting my eyes towards my fist. "Lord Orochimaru has…fallen ill. He insisted upon coming to see you, as this happened on such short notice. The curtain exists so he doesn't pass it on to anyone else."

"And would it be correct of me to assume you are speaking on his behalf for the same reason?"

"Yes, my lord. Speaking is difficult for him, at this time."

The Daimyo strokes the goatee hanging from his round chin. "Well, out with it. What are you seeking funds for?"

I tell him exactly what Lord Orochimaru have discussed, and for a moment, I'm proud of my level delivery. I still prefer spying to public speaking, but I'm doing well, all things considered. Still, the sooner we can close the deal, the better. "In order to advance Sound Country, we'll need to recruit more ninjas beyond its borders, given the country's small area. I present to you a map drawn by Lord Orochimaru. He's marked all the spots where he plans to build facilities." With a bow of my head, I extend the map with both hands.

The Daimyo takes the map from me. He unrolls it in front of him, blocking his face from view. "Six spots…am I paying for all of these?" he huffs, as if he has any right or real say in the matter.

"Not all at once, my lord," I say, masking my disdain with a small smile. How I wish I had a broom large enough to swat him! That's how much he reminds me of a rat. "Right now, we're concentrating on the ones in Water Country and…Earth Country." I close my hands into loose fists to keep my shuddering at bay.

We're bound to discover plenty of displaced shinobi and clans in either place. Lost souls in need of a new cause to hold onto, or just someone who will grant them the power they seek to take back their world. Truthfully, they are everywhere if you only care to look. But one step at a time.

"Hm…how ambitious! I'll pay you in installments. How about 10 million ryō every…six months?"

"Actually, Lord Orochimaru would prefer that you grant us the funding all at once."

His beady black eyes grow as he drops the map in his lap. "All at once? Are you mad?"

He's one to talk about mad decisions…

How do I call him out without sounding rude? "My lord, if we had all the money we need now, we can finish setting up these bases sooner. Unless you don't have the money right this minute…"

Suddenly, his large peanut-shaped ears turn red and he scowls. "What makes you think I don't have it?"

I push up my glasses, taking the moment to rearrange my face to the picture of calm. But on my left, the curtain flutters with a low chorus of hissing. "Well, if you did, I imagine you wouldn't mind our asking for it all upfront. I notice you've, er, renovated your palace…"

The Daimyo turns up his nose. "And what of it? I am the leader of a rising star of a nation! Haven't I the right to live like one?"

I clench my teeth. What's wrong with this man? Did he think his wealth and prestige would come for free? Deals with the devil may be vague but they are always non-negotiable.

Just when I think this couldn't get any worse (how careless of me!)—

"Oh, I see."

The room rattles as the chorus of hissing snakes grows louder and angrier.

"So that's why you can't spare the money _I_ helped you make? Because you've spent it all on ugly rats and tacky fabrics?"

Everyone in the room stands erect. The guards have their spears at the ready, all in vain. The swish of the curtain along thousands of scales warns me to leap out of the way, which I do.

In a display that I'm confident will make the Daimyo soil himself, Lord Orochimaru lashes out snakes blazing and jaws open wide, hair bristled around his scaly face and down his writhing neck. He still can't move very far, but it doesn't matter. His size more than compensates as he dodges a spear before he dives in on a guard. With a scream, the guard drops his weapon and is skewered in teeth, blood dripping out of him and dribbling down Lord Orochimaru's chin like juice from an overripe berry. His carcass gets tossed to the far end of the hall.

The other guard? He aims his spear at the back of my master's head. I thwart him with a well-aimed kunai of my own, knocking it out of the air. That gives Lord Orochimaru an opening to sic some of the snakes lining his neck. Four of them bind their victim by the arms and legs. A fifth fires out with fangs outstretched to sink them into his throat like needles through fat.

I tumble away to evade the spurt of blood and palm my face in the corner. There's no time to feel sorry for myself, though. I push up my glasses and smooth out my yukata as I get up and head for the Daimyo's right flank.

Lord Orochimaru, jaws splashed crimson and frozen in a bloodthirsty grin, takes his left, venturing out just far enough so his limp body stays hidden within the canopy. His snakes, scales also mottled with fresh blood, toss the second guard into a rat statue before retreating to the main body. The Daimyo, shivering, holds his hat close to his head by the brim as if that will save him. Sweat, iron, and piss permeate the air.

Lord Orochimaru's cackle rakes along our collective spines and ribs. "You seem to have forgotten who's in charge. You wouldn't still have a _country_ without me! So, let's put it in terms you're guaranteed to understand: grant me my funds when I request them, _as_ I request them…"

He flickers his tongue and cranes his neck, a snake prepared to strike.

"… _and I won't gobble you up like the fat little rat you are!"_

He punctuates his proposition with a mighty, blood-curdling hiss, making sure to get as close to the Daimyo's face as he possibly can.

The fool's eyes roll towards the back of his head—either out of sheer terror or the smell of Lord Orochimaru's breath on his face—and in an instant, he collapses onto his mat in a dead faint.

Lord Orochimaru's nostrils flare. "Hm. I must say, Kabuto, you need to polish your negotiation skills. You really are more effective at espionage. Politics, compared to science, is a bit more straightforward. This is how you do it."

I bite my tongue instead of reminding him that I could have reached a deal if he'd just been patient for a little longer. After witnessing what he's just done to the guards, that would be suicide. I am not feeling up to that, today.

Just when I think I've cleaned up a mess, he makes another one. Which of us is the adult, again?

"My lord…do you really plan to eat the Daimyo?" I ask, a wobbling sensation filling my knees. He obviously has no qualms with killing people, but I don't recall ever seeing him indicate that he dabbled in cannibalism. Then again, to cannibalize means to eat a member of your own species. To accuse Lord Orochimaru of being a cannibal is to assume he is human himself.

"No. But it makes no difference to the dead how they get that way. Besides, I couldn't eat him now if I wanted to. He's just soiled himself. Disgusting."

All his snakes nod in agreement, making his neck gently undulate.

He's not…wrong. But the naked irony of his comment is enough to topple me.


End file.
